A Unique Voyage

Several months ago, my son James entered my name in a lottery to hopefully win a voyage aboard the USS Constitution when she next ventured forth from her berth on Independence Day.  An icon of the Boston waterfront, the Constitution regularly reposes at her dock at the Navy Yard in Charlestown.  Constructed in the 1790s and still an officially commissioned ship of the United States Navy, she serves primarily as a museum and historic site.  Students of maritime history and casual tourists come to Boston to visit this ship and the associated historic shipyard.  Once per year, on the 4^th of July, the Constitution gets underway to make a day cruise through Boston Harbor and render military honors to commemorate the anniversary of the Declaration of Independence.  From a pool of tens of thousands of names, a few hundred are selected by a random lottery, and these lucky few are then invited to make the Independence Day voyage as guests of the Navy.  To my infinite surprise, I became one of the lucky few this year, and I was allowed to bring one travelling companion with me.

To prepare its guests for the voyage, the Navy sent paperwork describing the shipboard accommodations and instructions for reporting aboard.  There would be low overheads, confined quarters, minimal seating, no meal service, and no air conditioning.  In other words, the Constitution was not a cruise ship!  All guests were advised to bring drinking water, a snack, and sunscreen, and to be prepared for very hot weather.  Additionally, everyone would need to pass through a military security screening prior to boarding.

I chose my son Michael as my companion, and early in the morning of Saturday, July 4, 2026, we drove from Nashua to the Charlestown neighborhood of Boston.  After passing quickly and painlessly through the security checkpoint, we boarded the vessel at 8:30am:

The scheduled sailing time was 10:00am, so we had ample opportunity to explore the ship and become acquainted with everything.  Starting on the main deck, we noticed that there were only two sails on the ship, one on the foremast and one on the mizzen.  Clearly, the Constitution would not get underway on her own today.  Nonetheless, even without sails, the masts, crosstrees, and rigging were an impressive sight, no doubt the state of the art in the late eighteenth century:

As we admired the rigging, music filled the air.  A military band played naval and patriotic songs.  Later, when underway, another band dressed in colonial uniforms would also serenade us.  Next, going below to the gun deck, we discovered a row of massive cannons on each side of the ship.  Formidable looking weapons, their very presence stated that they meant business and were not to be trifled with:

Ironically, each cannon bore a design consisting of a crown and the stylized initials GR for Georgius Rex, King George:

I asked a petty officer about this, and he explained that while these guns were replicas, they were exact copies of the originals, which were in fact British.  At the time of her construction, the Constitution was fitted with British guns because the young United States did not yet have an armaments industry of sufficient capacity.

Close to the guns were the crew quarters.  All the men who did the grunt labor and dirty work slept in hammocks in a common area, an efficient but not luxurious use of the space:

At the opposite end of the naval hierarchy were two small but private rooms for the commanding officer and his second-in-command.  Luxurious compared to the enlisted men’s quarters, these rooms reflected the levels of responsibility held by these men, a common feature of both military and commercial vessels:

These rooms featured a small sitting spot with reasonably clear windows:

And the Boston skyline was reasonably clear through one of them:

Between these extremes of accommodation were positioned the commissioned officers’ wardroom and the enlisted crewmen’s chow hall.  Both were simple affairs, although the officers’ was larger, slightly more private, and flanked by individual cubicles for sleeping.  All these spaces, whether for the officers, the crew, or the guns, were immaculately and spotlessly clean, as was the exterior main deck.  The Constitution was obviously a very well-maintained ship.

As departure time approached, Michael and I went topside again.  The tugboat Harold A. Reinauer came alongside the Constitution and was made fast amidships on the starboard side.  The Harold would tow the Constitution “on the hip” throughout her short voyage across Boston Harbor and back.  By now it had become quite hot on the main deck with the temperature in the mid-90s.  Departure was postponed while several passengers who couldn’t bear the heat went ashore to seek relief.  After this, several crewmen circulated among the older guests and inquired about their health.  I guess I looked like a tired old man because a few of these young fellows asked me, “Are you all right, sir?  Do you feel okay, sir?”  I thanked them for their concern and assured them that I felt fine.  Finally, about 10:35am, the Harold gently eased the Constitution away from the dock, and we were underway.

Propelled by the Harold, the Constitution took a direct route from Charlestown past the North End, Downtown, East Boston, and Logan Airport toward Castle Island.  She was accompanied by a fleet of Navy, Coast Guard, and police escort vessels.  No doubt intended to prevent a terrorist attack, several of these boats featured deck-mounted machine guns with crewmen at the ready.  Michael found this one just off the Constitution’s port side:

In addition to these precautions, all landings and take-offs at Logan Airport were suspended while the Constitution was in the vicinity of the runways, and a police helicopter circled the ship overhead.  More peaceful to contemplate, though, was this view over the Harold’s deck of Downtown Boston that Michael took from the Constitution’s starboard side:

Continuing past Downtown, the Constitution sailed past the modern-day cruise ship terminal and container ship docks of the Seaport District, neither of which was particularly photogenic.  Beyond this industrial neighborhood lay the Constitution’s destination.

Fort Independence sits on Castle Island.  This is not actually an island but a peninsula at the easternmost end of South Boston, a site critical to the defense of Boston Harbor long ago.  A large crowd of spectators filled the park adjacent to the fort, braving the intense heat to watch the ship and await the fireworks.  The Harold maneuvered the Constitution into position.  Several crewmen distributed ear protection to the passengers.  Then the cannons roared and billowed white smoke as the Constitution rendered a 21-gun salute in recognition of the 250^th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence.  After the noise and smoke subsided, everyone on board cheered.

It was now time to return to Charlestown.  The Harold eased the Constitution back through the harbor, past Logan Airport and the Seaport District once again.  Two large cruise ships were moored at the Black Falcon Terminal, and we supposed the passengers on these vessels were enjoying a fantastic view as the Constitution slowly passed in front of them.  At several spots along the shore, additional groups of spectators endured the extreme heat and watched the ship go by.  After a little while, when the Constitution had safely moved away from the runways, landings and take-offs resumed at Logan Airport.

As the ship passed Downtown and the North End again, Michael and I noted several landmarks that held special significance in our family history.  Chief among these were the steeple of the Old North Church, an icon of the North End and the site of Michael’s graduation at the completion of his program at the North Bennet Street School in 2013, and the Coast Guard facility on Commercial Street, the place where I had taken the exams for and received my Merchant Marine license as limited master and unlimited chief mate in 1984.  So long ago now!  As the Constitution came abeam of the Coast Guard docks, a contingent of naval officers gathered on the main deck and saluted as a cannon was fired and military honors were rendered by the Navy unto the Coast Guard.

Taking pictures of such events aboard the Constitution proved difficult because the ship was so crowded.  Hundreds of people occupied deck space that had never been designed for passengers and sightseers.  Nonetheless, we emerged with a few good shots, including one of the North End skyline that shows how the neighborhood has burgeoned since Michael’s school years there:

Michael also captured this dramatic upward-looking view of the foremast and its associated rigging, the part of the ship that had impressed me the most when we first stepped aboard:

And as Michael had studied wood working at North Bennet Street, it seemed only fitting that he would discover this wood-carved Navy emblem:

With the Constitution now approaching her dock in Charlestown, the Harold gently turned her around and then eased her stern first into the mooring basin and with her port side to the wharf.  Getting the ship into position, putting out the mooring lines, and placing the gangway were time-consuming processes.  We rested in the shade and comparative cool of the gun deck during this evolution.  Many passengers, however, seemed anxious to return ashore, and they huddled in the heat at the gangway area.  About 1:10pm, after approximately two hours and thirty-five minutes of underway time, we were free to go ashore.  As we stepped onto the dock, a crewman presented us with certificates that testified of our having made this short but unique voyage:

I must give credit to all the military personnel, both aboard the Constitution and shoreside.  They were consistently and unfailingly professional—polite, courteous, welcoming, friendly, and perhaps most importantly, showing compassion and concern for guests experiencing difficulty with the heat.

Ashore now under a partly cloudy sky and with a fresh breeze that gave some relief from the heat, we paused to take a few more pictures of the Constitution, one of which I found somewhat distinctive:

In the Navy Yard gift shop, however, I found a much better likeness, appropriately an antiqued portrait of an antique ship:

Finally, I think it appropriate to recollect that when the Constitution was built in the 1790s, her namesake Constitution was as yet a largely untried and unproven document.  Founded on a combination of Christian principles and Enlightenment philosophical ideals, the Constitution has by now withstood the test of time, despite having been disregarded and contradicted by some government officials who had taken an oath to uphold and defend it.  Tragically, such crime continues in our day, and it contravenes the appeal to moral integrity set forth by Katherine Lee Bates in the hymn “America the Beautiful:”

Confirm thy soul in self-control,

Thy liberty in law.

Such political crime also ignores the scriptural assertion that the

law of the land which is constitutional, supporting that principle of freedom in maintaining rights and privileges, belongs to all mankind, and is justifiable before me (D&C 98:5).

Sacred scripture speaks further of

the laws and constitution of the people, which I have suffered to be established, and should be maintained for the rights and protection of all flesh, according to just and holy principles (D&C 101:77).

With these thoughts in mind, I am very thankful for the unexpected but golden opportunity that I received from my son James to sail aboard the Constitution on her annual Independence Day cruise with my son Michael, and I most certainly appreciate the high ethical standards that inspired the establishment of the original Constitution.

A Visit With an Old Friend

It’s always a very pleasant experience to visit the waterfront and watch the commercial shipping come and go, and I’ve enjoyed doing this in many different places.  On a recent vacation in Alaska, I spent many happy hours on the Coastal Trail in Anchorage.  Stomping through the snow and gazing upon the placid but cold water of the Cook Inlet, I had the pleasure of seeing several vessels, both underway and anchored.  The star of the show, however, made her appearance just before I was due to return home.  This was a special ship, one my family and I had sailed on fourteen years earlier.

But let us begin at the beginning.  I arrived in Anchorage on Wednesday, April 15, 2026.  The next morning I made my way to the waterfront, about twenty minutes’ walk from my sons’ and granddaughters’ house.  While they were busy in school and at work, I found this tug and barge reposing on the anchoring ground just past the snow-covered tidal flats:

This is a popular spot, with vessels anchored here frequently.  On the following Monday, April 20, I found another tug and barge combination reposing there.  By this time, though, milder temperatures had eliminated some of the snow:

In the early morning of Saturday, May 2, yet another tug and barge rested at anchor there, while to the left, the tug One Cure pushed a loaded cargo barge ahead, bound for Valdez[1]:

Half an hour later, the One Cure and her barge were gradually fading into the mist as they proceeded seaward:

With some of the family joining me in the late afternoon of Tuesday, May 5, my son Steven took this profile view of the freighter North Star departing Anchorage:

A few minutes later, he caught the North Star farther along the channel with Mount Susitna in the background:

Finally, the big day arrived.  In the cold early morning of Friday, May 8, the cruise ship Nieuw Amsterdam of the Holland America Line came into port.  We had made a Caribbean voyage aboard this grand vessel in February of 2012, and we’ve had very happy memories of this occasion ever since.  Ten years after our voyage, Steven and the granddaughters and I had the pleasure of seeing her moored in Whittier, Alaska, one Sunday afternoon on May 15, 2022.  Today’s arrival in Anchorage would thus be our third rendezvous with this great ship.  And so, shortly after 6:00am, she came into view as she rounded Point Woronzof by the Anchorage International Airport:

Several minutes later, I caught a lucky shot of the Nieuw Amsterdam with an Alaska Airlines 737 passing overhead and coming into port as well:

After a few more minutes, the Nieuw Amsterdam aligned herself with Mount Susitna:

Soon she came abeam of me, and I caught a profile view;

As the Nieuw Amsterdam sailed farther up the channel, I hustled along the Coastal Trail to a new vantage point.  As I hurried along, I caught another lucky shot of the ship framed by the forest:

Finally, the great lady came alongside the wharf just north of the downtown area, right on time for her scheduled 7:00am arrival:

Twelve hours later, we went on a family outing to the docks and Steven found the Nieuw Amsterdam moored in an industrial neighborhood backed by mountains, a somewhat incongruous setting:

Late on Saturday afternoon, May 9, the Nieuw Amsterdam set sail and departed from Anchorage.  Watching from Point Woronzof, I took this port bow view as she approached us:

A few minutes later, with the ship at her closest point of approach to us, Steven caught this profile view of her:

He also recorded my granddaughter Miss Katie watching in rapt attention as the great ship sailed in front of her:

She did not remain in front of us very long, however, as this port quarter view from just a few minutes later can attest:

Finally, with the Nieuw Amsterdam fading into the distance, it was time to bid her a fond farewell with wishes for a fair wind and a following sea:

Just as the Nieuw Amsterdam’s two-day visit to Anchorage went by too quickly, so did my three-and-a-half week vacation there also pass much too quickly.  It was a precious time.  My purpose in going to Anchorage had been to visit family; visiting the waterfront and watching the merchant fleet came as an added bonus.  While I am thankful for this bonus, I appreciate my children and grandchildren much more deeply.  They are truly “an heritage of the Lord” (Ps. 127:3), and any time spent with them is precious, much more so than the time spent watching a ship arrive and depart.  Indeed, the Nieuw Amsterdam is special to the family only because of the voyage we made aboard her together fourteen years ago.  Without this family connection, she would be just another cruise ship.   

I will leave the closing thought to Steven.  When I was blissfully unaware of what he was doing, he took this photograph of a tired, old, and indigent merchant seaman wandering aimlessly along the water’s edge with the Nieuw Amsterdam in the background.  For some of us, no matter how long it’s been since we went to sea, we just can’t stay away from it.  Now we even drag our families along with us to the waterfront!

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[1] Information from marinetraffic.com.

Always Drawn Back

My son Steven remarked to me that I had “just scratched the surface” of our vacation in San Francisco in my recent compilation on the subject.  He was right, of course.  Like all major cities, San Francisco and its environs are a large subject.  One week is nowhere near enough time to take in everything the region has to offer.  This realization makes it easy to understand why some people return to the same places repeatedly.  They simply want to experience everything in their favorite vacation spots.

San Francisco, with its surrounding waterways and with the happy memories it that holds for me, remains one of my favorite locations for both vacation and nostalgia.  It’s difficult to mentally separate even the present-day city from the memories of the happy golden years that I spent aboard ship.  With these thoughts in mind, let us once again take a stroll through the town and along the waterfront and perhaps even another voyage across the bay.

Starting in the historically Italian North Beach neighborhood on Sunday morning, June 8, 1980, we come upon the Church of Saints Peter and Paul:

Operated by the Salesian Fathers, who provided the photograph, this church offers Masses in English, Italian, and Chinese, and its façade displays the famous opening line of Dante’s Paradiso:

La Gloria di colui che tutto muove per l’universo penetra e risplende.[i]

This verse rendered into English becomes:

The glory of him who moves all things through the universe penetrates and shines.

Returning to this church with Steven on Saturday, August 2, 2025, I photographed this inscription for both old times’ sake and posterity:

In concurrence with Dante, I’ve long regarded the Deity in seafaring terms, as the Master and Chief Engineer of the universe, and I’ve seen his glory countless times both on the world’s oceans and in the celestial sphere above them.  Saving this thought for another day, however, we next climb Telegraph Hill and proceed to the Coit Tower to take in the view of the harbor front.  With Steven on that same Saturday, I recorded this northward view which shows the historic freighter Jeremiah O’Brien resting quietly alongside her pier:

Next, this eastward view shows several of the old freighter piers as well as the San Francisco-Oakland Bay Bridge and Yerba Buena Island:

For comparison, here is the same view on that June Sunday in 1980:

Looking northward that same afternoon, we see a scattering or recreational craft on the bay:

Since the development of containerization, most of the cargo is now handled at more modern facilities in Oakland.  These old piers have been repurposed and now host an assortment of offices, restaurants, retail shops, museums, and some light industry.  Their facades have been cleaned up and now present a pleasing aesthetic at street level as we see here on the last day of July of this year:

At the approach end, however, some of the old piers seem less well preserved but sport vestiges of their glory days.  Here is Pier 33, seen from the ferry Alcatraz Flyer on Tuesday, July 29, 2025.  Note the very faded but still legible inscriptions of the structure’s former tenants: the Union Line, the Pacific Far East Lines and the Furness Lines:

Also on that same overcast morning we see the Coit Tower by looking upward from street level at the waterfront:

Forty and more years ago, two ferry lines connected San Francisco with the communities of Sausalito and Larkspur to the north of the city.  Now, a vastly expanded fleet also links the city with Oakland, Alameda, Berkeley, and Richmond.  The voyage to Oakland took Steven and me under the Bay Bridge on Thursday afternoon, July 31.  This was my first time sailing across the bay and passing beneath the Bay Bridge since the Comet returned from Japan early on the morning of Easter Sunday, April 22, 1984.  It felt great to be back and crossing the bay again, especially on such a bright and sunny afternoon:

Most of the ferries that serve San Francisco begin and end their voyages at the iconic Ferry Building at the foot of Market Street.  In the 1980s the front of this building was obscured by an ugly, unfinished, and never-used elevated expressway.  Irreparably damaged in the earthquake of 1989, it was subsequently demolished, and the classical façade of the Ferry Building was once again exposed to the light of day.  Since then, the Ferry Building has been completely refurbished and restored to its former grandeur.  Now, besides hosting ferries, its cavernous interior contains retail shops, restaurants, and other travelers’ services.  Its clock tower, seen here on Saturday, August 2, is visible from all around and stands out as one of the gems of the city skyline:

The rejuvenation of the iconic Ferry Building leads me to recall that in my teenage years I had developed an interest in architecture and even looked into studying it formally at the university level.  To my great adolescent dismay, however, I discovered that it was a five-year full-time program that led to the degree of Bachelor of Architecture, and that was followed by a two-year full-time program that led to the degree of Master of Architecture.  Seven years in college!  I was horrified, and so I never pursued the matter further.  But my interest in the subject has remained with me through all these years, and I found San Francisco to be an architecture lover’s dream.  I suppose entire books have been written on the subject, but I’ll content myself with a few amateur photographs.

Three stops on the subway from the Ferry Building is the Civic Center.  Presiding over this campus is the San Francisco City Hall, a building that looks more like the capitol of a state or country than of a city.  Here we see it in less-than-ideal photographic conditions in the early evening of Tuesday, July 29:

Sharing the Civic Center acreage with City Hall are the San Francisco Public Library, the San Francisco Opera House, the Supreme Court of California, the Asian Art Museum, the Federal Office Building, the Herbst Theater, and the Graham Civic Auditorium. While they are all architecturally significant structures on their own, together they form an even grander masterpiece that can rival any European capital.  On the lighter side, the Civic Center, and particularly City Hall, were portrayed in the James Bond film A View to a Kill in 1985.

More sublimely, in the nearby Mission Dolores neighborhood, the original Mission Dolores chapel, dating to 1780 and erected by the Spaniards when they first brought Christianity to the region, still stands and remains in use.  Miraculously, this building survived the earthquake and fire of 1906 while the entire surrounding neighborhood was destroyed.  Here we see the interior of the colonial Mission Dolores on Friday, August 1:

Adjacent to this venerable structure stands a newer basilica that features non-identical twin spires.  This is the taller of the two on the same day:

Surmounting the main altar of the basilica is a dome complete with pastel-colored stucco-like walls supporting a red tile roof, all key elements of Spanish Mediterranean architecture:

For many years, San Francisco had a large Spanish Mission style railroad station at the corner of Third and Townsend Streets.  Unfortunately, this magnificent building was demolished in the postwar era.  Happily, however, as part of California’s more recent investment in public transportation, classic railroad stations in nearby cities have been restored and rejuvenated and are now heavily used.  On Thursday morning, July 31, Steven and I visited the lovely Southern Pacific station in San Jose which still proudly bears the name Southern Pacific Lines over its center arched window:

The interior, also renewed and refurbished, has a bright and airy atmosphere enabled by the oversize arched windows, another architectural feature that the Spaniards brought with them from the Mediterranean:

While these and many other cultural aspects of San Francisco and its environs combine to make it a fascinating seaport and a world class city, my favorite part remains the ocean.  Accordingly, then, I will indulge myself for a moment and revisit the city’s oceanfront.   On Friday morning, August 1, Steven and I rode the Judah Street trolley to the end of the line at the western edge of the city:

We disembarked from the trolley, hiked the short distance through the dunes and across the brown sandy beach to the sea:

Standing at the water’s edge, we gazed upon the great Pacific Ocean.  A low overcast, a gray veil of fog, and a cold onshore breeze laden with salt spray combined with the mild surf to form a magnificently beautiful and inspirational sight.  Only a few other people were there, mostly joggers and dog walkers who did not linger.  Thus undisturbed and undistracted, we stood there and stared at the sea and sky and watched and felt the unceasing motion of the wind and waves.  Time itself seemed to stand still.  In the back of my mind, however, I realized that the time we had at this spot would be much too short and would pass much too quickly.  I would have been perfectly content to remain there in front of the Pacific Ocean all morning and then return after lunch.

Eventually, Steven said to me, “Well, I know you could stay here all day, but I’m getting cold.”  He was not dressed as warmly as I was, and my paternal concern for my young son overrode my desire to stare at the ocean all day.  Reluctantly, then, and with many backward glances toward the sea, I walked with him back across the beach and through the dunes to the trolley stop.

It felt very difficult to leave this beautiful location, but it had indeed been a great privilege, especially after so many years, to have stood again before the great Pacific Ocean.  The scriptures enjoin us to “stand in holy places” (D&C 101:22).   Surely the oceanfront is a holy place, one where we can at least temporarily escape the world of human concerns and be inspired and edified by communing with the Deity through the sublime magnificence of his Creation.  While standing in this holy place, Steven and I truly saw “The glory of him who moves all things.”

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[i] Dante Alighieri, Paradiso, third part of the Divina Commedia, c. I. v. i.